Thoughts

Slave: To Lady Rochester, By You There

To Lady Rochester, by You There

I am the piano, long un-tuned,
The hound still but half-trained,
The bush, barren till it be pruned,
The slave that's lost un-chained.

Wherefore I come to Lady R,
Adept dominatrix,
Among whose meny marvels are
The skills slave's faults to fix;

Whose practised rites and rituals
Are Man's best medicine;
For males, Lear's 'bare forked animals'
Need females' discipline.

Whether in harness ceiling-high
I stretch, or kneeling cower
Her boots to lick, I know that I
Am in her total power;

And relish it! For her I trust
To comprehend my need
And limits. All endure I must;
For mercy may not plead;

Till she at long last satisfied
By my response to training,
Grants that my flesh be gratified,
Its pent-up powers draining.